


Vice and Virtue

by cabarets



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, does that help idk, i'm ready to face god and walk backwards into hell for writing this, idk how to measure angst so how do i say it without giving anything away, ok cool, ok i got it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabarets/pseuds/cabarets
Summary: “I’m getting married in the morning, Koushi,”“You are getting married in the morning,” Sugawara repeats.
Relationships: Shimizu Kiyoko & Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	Vice and Virtue

It was a normal evening.

It was.

Apart from the fact that Kiyoko Shimizu was going to get married in the morning, it was a normal evening.

The people in her life left her just a few hours ago in her hotel room to let her have the rest of the night to herself. Not that she minded the company, but it was an offer that was welcome.

It’s not like marriage was going to change her life that much, but she guessed that this was probably the last time she could do whatever she pleased.

Not exactly in the mood to sleep, Shimizu takes out a pile of letters she received from Yachi the other day. Letters from the boys, she said to her. Shimizu couldn’t imagine that they’d take the time to write one for her, it was probably Yachi’s idea. It seems like something she’d ask them to do. She shuffled it and opened the first one on top and started reading what the her former teammates had in mind to tell her—laughing to herself every now and again to the thoughts of each of them struggling to get their points across.

Until the last one. 

The last one, which to be honest wasn’t exactly the last one. She just placed it at the back of the pile when she encountered it.

But now it was.

It was the last one.

She contemplated on not reading it. She really did. She thought of just throwing it away and pretending that it never existed. She even stood up and stood near the trash holding the letter with the intention of tearing it apart.

But she doesn’t.

She couldn’t.

Maybe it was because she caught her reflection in the mirror, it was like her eyes looked at her as if she was a different person. She was a different person and this person in the reflection is telling her that she should know what to do already. She screwed her eyes shut trying to shake it off, but it doesn’t go away when she opens her eyes.

Shimizu stared at the envelope again. She stared and in a quick motion rips the flap of it instead. She takes the folded piece of paper from it’s envelope and begins to read—not exactly realising she was holding her breath.

> _Kiyoko,_
> 
> _It’s been years since we last spoke, two to be exact. I’ve tried reaching out to you, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t knowing that you completely crossed me out from your mind. I don’t blame you. I would’ve done the same to me too._
> 
> _Now, before you throw this out, before you move on with the rest of your life, I’d hope you’d humour me this time— for the last time, just this once. I promise._
> 
> _I know that for a time you were so angry. About me. About us. About everything. I also knew that you’d stop feeling that way eventually. At the same time, I also know that you no longer care. I’m glad to see you have reached that point._
> 
> _When I left, that’s when I realised I was the biggest idiot because I didn’t treat you the way you should have been treated. When you were gone, that’s when I recognised everything I’ve done wrong—every single thing._
> 
> _I’ve wasted the time I had with you, Kiyoko. I wasted that time, and I realised that too late. Way too late._
> 
> _I finally understood why you did what you had to do. I understood why you grew tired. I understood why you had to stop fighting. You were giving your all, even more so, and yet you were receiving lesser and lesser each time. I’m glad you did this. I’m glad for I would’ve never learned. I would’ve never learned how to truly value someone. I finally understood._
> 
> _Thank you, Kiyoko—really. Thank you. I know it’s been years since we broke up, since we’ve last spoken to each other—I don’t even think we’d ever speak to each other again after this, however, I would like you to know, if this is truly the last time, that you’ll always be a part of me. You’re part of my life, Kiyoko. I don’t think that would ever change. Whatever I have now, is because of you._
> 
> _I already know what you’re thinking. Yes, I am well aware that you are getting married. I hoped that you have found yourself someone better, someone who can put in an equal amount of love, effort, understanding, and patience as you do—and who’d be willing to give a little bit more of that when needed. It seems like you’ve already found that someone. I hope he keeps you on your toes and is interested in what life has to offer._
> 
> _Kiyoko, I hope that you’ll never again go through life again feeling less than whole. You deserve nothing less than every happiness._
> 
> _All my love,_
> 
> _Koushi_

“Koushi,” she exhales,

It was the first time that name came up in awhile. 

In her exhale, a wave of different emotions washes over Shimizu, as if something painful had just resurfaced once more.

Breathe.

The feeling began to creep all over. It began on her chest and trickled all over her making its way to her fingertips. The next thing she knew, she pulled out her laptop and—

_Connected._

“Shimizu,” he says, “or should I say Tanaka now? Aren’t you getting married in the morning? It’s late,”

There he was.

The composer of the wretched letter.

Koushi Sugawara.

They haven’t talked to each other in years. Acknowledged each other, yes, but really talked to each other? This was the first time in years and him being so casual about it seems—irritating. He wasn’t even looking at the camera. It’s like he has no idea why she even called.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she says as she scrambles to get herself to close the program,

“Wait,”

She hesitated.

She hesitated and when she did, he spoke again.

“You’re not bothering me,” Sugawara says matter-of-factly, “but what is bothering _you_? Pre-wedding jitters?”

She pondered at just leaving it at that.

Leaving things unsaid.

Leaving things up in the air.

But she didn’t want to.

There was a certain type of bravery she felt as she read that letter. It was like she absorbed the fearlessness of his words and prompted her to be there too. She realised she rather lay it all out instead of leaving a thousand a thousand words left unsaid.

“More like post-breakup nerves.” Shimizu sighs and shows the letter to the screen,

“Oh,” Sugawara closes his mouth with that word. If it was a word at all.

“You could’ve just left it alone. Why did you have to do that?”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew,”

Sugawara looked away then, as if deep in thought. Shimizu couldn’t help but stay put and look at him, struggling to say nothing when all you want to do is the exact opposite. She wanted to scream at him—but when Sugawara finally accepted her gaze, there was resignation in his eyes and she softened. She softens. She softened as she recalled a memory when he replied.

_“Shimizu Kiyoko-san, I like you. I really do.”_

_“I—” Shimizu uttered—and frankly, was all she could say,_

_“You don’t have to say it back. Actually, you don’t actually have to feel the same way,” he said with a conviction, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”_

“I can’t believe that,” she says coldly,

Not again, she says to herself. Not again.

“I can’t believe that you’re getting married, so let’s call it even,” he says in the same manner,

“Why did I even call you?”

“I should be the one asking that question, really.”

She could see Sugawara straightening up from his seat, bewildered. Shimizu then raised her eyes to look at his face and slowly, her exasperated facade faded away—she actually felt like she was about to start bawling. She was trying her best to move her mouse to close the program, to end the call, but she was too distressed to stay still. 

He notices this. She knows he did. She could see him hold on to the touchpad of his own device, ready to end the call for her. He catches her eye and his eyes widen—there was a hint of something she hadn’t seen in a long time. He was about to click when she finally spoke.

“How did we end up this way?” she whispers,

He stops. He didn’t exactly hear it, but the small sound was enough for him to stop his movements.

“How did we end up this way?” she repeats it a little bit louder than the first time, loud enough for Sugawara to hear.

“I don’t know, Shimizu,”

“I’m getting married in the morning, Sugawara,”

“You are getting married in the morning,” Sugawara repeats. It feels as if it was more directed to himself.

“It’s the night before my wedding,”

“It is,”

“It’s the night before my wedding and I’m here video-calling with my ex-boyfriend because he took the chance to write me a letter and—”

Shimizu drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t even finish her sentence. Everything was frustrating. She swallows and clenches her fists—trying to contain herself but it was obviously failing.

“Are you trying to test me?” she gave an angry laugh, “Is that it? Did Ryu put you up with this?”

“He doesn’t know about us, remember? None of them did.”

“Then why?” Shimizu scoffs, “Did you think by giving me this letter I would change my mind? That I would choose you? That I would marry you?”

“No,” he jerks slightly, “You did tell me once that you didn’t plan on marrying me—third year. I never forgot that,”

_Be careful what you wish for, Kiyoko. Didn’t your mother keep telling you that?_

“I’m sorry,” Sugawara swallows, “I wouldn’t have sent it if I—”

“No,” she cuts,

“I just wanted you to—”

“No,”

“I—”

“No,” she repeats,

“Kiyoko,”

 _Kiyoko._ She screws her eyes shut and shakes her head profusely.

“Please. Listen to me, please? You’re angry. I know. But please. Please. I don’t want you to change your mind. I don’t—”

“Maybe some things are better left unsaid, okay?”

“Maybe leaving things unsaid is why we didn’t get any better” he counters,

She couldn’t forgive him.

He understood that.

She couldn’t forgive him.

She couldn’t forgive him, but she couldn’t be callous about it either. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t care. Maybe it was just the remains of what was once there, maybe it never even left— but she still could not bring herself to see him like this. To see him struggle.

So she listened.

“I did not write that letter to change your mind,” he sighs deeply, “I thought you’d just throw it away once you read it,”

“But I didn’t,”

“You didn’t throw it away, yes.”

The blood was running in her veins and it had never been so tempting, so tempting to just forget about every single thing and end this call. 

But she could not.

She wanted to know.

“When I found out you were engaged, I’m not going to lie to you and say that I was alright. The fact that you were engaged to one of my teammates didn’t really soften the blow. So I wrote. I wrote that letter with the quiet acceptance that this,” Sugawara explains—his voice breaking slightly, “whatever we were, wasn’t going to be what I wanted it to be. Wasn’t what I thought it would be. So I wrote. I wish I had found something about you I extremely disliked or could not forgive, but I didn’t. It would’ve probably made a better letter.”

It took a moment for Shimizu to absorb what he had said. But as he spoke his words, his peace, she realised how much of an idiot she was. She realised the anger wasn’t because he wrote the letter, but more of the fact that he still did not think ill of her after everything. Maybe it wasn’t him that was unforgivable.

She was an idiot.

“It was enough for me.” he admits, “The letter was enough for me. I did not need you to explain anything.”

“It was cruel to break up with you like that, Sugawara. It was cruel. I was cruel.”

“No, you aren’t cruel.”

“I am,”

“A little stubborn, sure. Calm. Collected. With a conviction that it’s almost scary. But you aren’t cruel, Kiyoko.”

“Why can’t you just make yourself hate me?”

“I tried. Believe me, I tried. It’s just that after a while I realised that I could never hate you. I could never. I will never. I don’t think I could forget either—forget about us.”

Shimizu believed that she could do without him—he could do without her. He could do without her when she broke up with him and it would be something uncomplicated. That he could move on eventually, he was like that. He would move on and she would too, and it would be like it never happened. That was a mistake.

That was her mistake. 

“I was never the same after you,” he admits,

The silence after that felt like an eternity but it was probably just a beat, a breath.

“Do you love him?” he asks,

The air tensed around them. It was an easy question to answer. She usually answered this without thinking. She could go on a spiel if she had to. But for this moment. She didn’t know why she hesitated.

“Yes,”

“Then, that’s it.” he says, quietly,

Shimizu blinked at him. Sugawara looked at her closely and said nothing more. There was nothing said and yet, there was a sense of release inside her and she swore that she felt it was him pulling out of her. Maybe this was meant to happen. To see him like this. To see him before everything was complete. To be parted. Never to stay.

But it doesn’t feel that way just yet. Just a little bit longer, she hoped.

“Koushi,”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember that time —“

Time slowed.

Time stilled.

It stilled then.

It was like the concept of time did not exist and the only thing that did was the two of them. Even if they were divided through a screen, it didn’t feel like that. That gap couldn’t even keep them apart.

Sugawara did not say much. He laughed and nodded occasionally—when he did speak, it was casual, but it was also careful. It was like he was trying so hard not to give in. It was like he knew that the words that he was going to say were something that she’ll fixate on, something that she’ll find meaning in—and then she’ll falter. She’ll crumble. He knew this. She’s aware that he knew this.

He could’ve just used that against her. One word from him and she would’ve done anything. But instead, he said the right words. Not one word out of line. No propaganda. No attempt to change her mind.

Instead, he spent most of the time just looking at her intently. It’s as if he was committing it into his memories. Committing her into his memories—and in every movement he was already retreating. He was retreating to a place where she cannot follow. Slowly withdrawing at each movement. Slow enough that you wouldn’t really notice it.

But she did anyway.

“The sun is about to rise,” Sugawara states after awhile,

She looks out from her bedroom window then. He was right. A breathtaking blue hue had taken over the skies. It was almost daybreak.

“You should sleep,” he mumbles, “you know, it’s your big day and all,”

“I think it’s too late for that,” she checks the time, “they’ll be waking me up in about three hours,”

“That’s still three hours of sleep you can get,”

“You’re right about that,”

There was silence after that. There was silence. In that silence they couldn’t help but look at each other, figuring out what just happened the whole night. It hits them suddenly, simultaneously—it makes them look away for a moment. 

It finally hits them.

The feeling. 

The feeling of lost moments.

The feeling of what-ifs or what-could’ve-beens.

The feeling does not go away when they look back into each other’s eyes, a hint of a tear in both.

“Koushi,” she whispers, as if it was something sacred—like a prayer,

Maybe this is all they were meant to be.

Maybe this is all that they should be.

A moment.

A moment in passing.

Something that was never meant to stay.

It was beautifully depressing.

He then breaks into a small smile, which she returned.

“I love you,” he said quietly, it’s as if it was almost an apology.

And before she could respond, he ended the call.

She couldn’t even tell him that she felt the same. 

  
  



End file.
